


Good Boy

by d__T, Najanaja



Series: Indigo North [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Autofellatio, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Squishing, indigo being depressed in the interlude, more to come and tags updated when that happens, normalling, the lightest D/s themes like blink and you'll miss it, they take a shower and nothing occurs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-25 05:11:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6181576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d__T/pseuds/d__T, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Najanaja/pseuds/Najanaja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: Nomad/Indigo + Good Boy</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Round 1

 

Nomad shoves Indigo back and down, and sits on his thighs.  He smiles, biting his lip, and pushes the smaller man down again, as he tries to rise.  

"Only one good arm?" the scag says, "How do you like jacking off with your left?  I never liked it myself."

Indigo pushes with his thighs, trying to dislodge Nomad while being careful of his bandaged arm. Which is, quite frankly, keeping him from succeeding at his efforts.

He shrugs. "I manage. Why, you wanna do it for me?"

Nomad laughs at Indigo's efforts, rubbing both his hips firmly as he shimmies.  "Let's see you manage first.

He folds his arms over his chest, tensing to make his biceps larger, and pulling his shoulders back to broaden his chest.  It is not subtle, nor is the look on his face: amused and fierce.  

"Need help with your jeans?" He smirks.  "I bet you don't.  I bet you learned fast."

Indigo doesn't bother with his jeans at first, instead teasing himself. The play makes Nomad impatient. Indigo relents then, getting the zipper first. 

The jeans are well worn, and the zipper is softened and easy. The belt buckle is little trouble, at least in this direction where he can just pull at it. Then he pinches at the button until it does what he wants, which takes just long enough for Indigo to get impatient with it, and to sound victorious when he gets it undone.

He shoves a hand down his pants then, gripping at his cock and pulling up against his belly so that the head of it shows.

"Yeah."  Nomad sees the pink glans of Indigo's cock.  He tilts his head, flaring his nose.  His large eyes narrow, and he rises up, so his hands can hook into the man's jeans and pull them down.  The scag sinks down on Indigo's thighs and leans over his chest, kissing him.  Indigo's hand starts thumping softly into Nomad's abs.  Nomad sucks on his jaw and throat, and growls, "Good boy."

Indigo squirms and twists a little under the kissing and biting, tipping his head back to bare his throat to it. He's blinking long blinks, like he wants to shut his eyes but wants to watch Nomad too.

At the words  _ good boy _ , a twitch runs through him, a soft gasp, and now his eyes shut. Head tipped back and pink lips just parted.

And then very softly, like he's wondering. "Yeah..."

Nomad strokes now at Indigo's bare hips, his thumbs sliding into his black hair, and down to his balls.  He takes the soft sack in one hand, rolling his fingers over the stones.  He crawls lower on one hand and his knees.  Sitting on Indigo's calves,  Nomad yanks at his jeans, and then he runs his other hand up and down the hairy, firm thighs.  He's watching Indigo play with himself intently.

When Nomad touches his balls, Indigo  says “Yeah…” again. Stronger now, like he's pretending the thing that just happened didn't happen. But the burst of arousal is still visible; pink in his cheeks and the part of his lips and the way he's pulling the edge of his glans against his thumb.

Nomad licks his lips, staring at Indigo's blushing face.  He lets go of the man's sack, and rising, he swings himself off the slim legs.  He draws the zippers down on both boots.  The worn leather catches well in his fingers, and it's simple to slide them off.  He throws them aside.  Finally the scag grabs his rumpled jeans and drags.  When they're gone, too, Nomad opens his own jeans and pulls out his hard cock with a groan.   

"Keep jacking," he demands, holding his cock in one hand, and lube in the other.  He slicks himself and climbs onto Indigo's thighs again.  "Both of us..." the scag taps his heavy cock onto the back of his mate's hand until it opens, and enfolds him. "That's good.  Good boy, sweetie."

Indigo blinks and grins up at him, his mate's cock hot and wet and firm against his knuckles and then he lets it into his hand. The praise has less impact this time, but there's still that little sharp intake of breath. The two cocks stretch his hand, and Nomad gets the most of his fingers. He jacks them together, Nomad's cock sliding and getting his hand slick. 

He reaches up and grabs Nomad's clothes to pull him down into a kiss, but it's his injured hand. There's only a little force in the pull.

Nomad is excited at the weakness of the pull; he realizes now that Indigo is very disadvantaged.  The scag goes fiercely into the kiss, winning the man's lower lip, and sucking and nipping.  He growls and grabs Indigo's right forearm when the truckie tries to have his turn.  Nomad's fingers twist in, fast, and he shakes the limb softly.  

"You got to behave tonight, sweetie," The scag whispers, thrusting into the slim, oiled hand, rubbing his shaft on the warm rod beneath it.  "Be very good.  I'm not having any sass tonight."

Indigo twists, a sharp aborted motion when Nomad grabs his arm, and then goes still again. He is good though; he doesn't bite back at Nomad's lips. He lets Nomad bite and suck, lets it pull little sounds from him.

He shifts his hand to stroke just Nomad's thick cock, letting his own fall against his belly with a wet sound. Indigo reaches further to gently fondle Nomad's stones.

"That's good, yeah.  Squeeze just a little, sweetie.  Fuck yeah,"  Nomad is breathing over Indigo's small, pointed chin as he talks.  He lays the man's bandaged arm on the floor.  Bracing with his left hand, he finds Indigo's hot glans with his right palm.  He lets the truckie jab into his open hand for a few minutes; Indigo making gusty sounds as he flexes up.  His cock is slippery and soon there's a drip running to the heel of Nomad's palm.  

The scag grips in, starting to twist and tug.  "You let me know when you're going to cum.  I bet your arse is really tight now, hey?  I bet you're really tight.  You want me to stretch you?"

Thrusting up into Nomad's hand is making him tight, he can feel the tautness in his thighs and and his balls and his stomach. And as Nomad grips him, "Ah, just like that!" He keeps thrusting into that big slick hand, working with him.

"Fuck, yeah! soon, just like that!"

Nomad keeps tugging, quick tight strokes. Indigo is gasping, his hand losing rhythm on Nomad's cock.

"I'm gonna cum, angel!"

"No!" Nomad growls, dropping Indigo's cock and dismounting his thighs.  He slips his right arm under the man's knees,  and heaves his legs and hips up.  He watches Indigo's hand find his cock, and work the shaft urgently.  Indigo shuts his eyes and his pink mouth is an oval, with shadow inside as his tongue curls back for a shout.  

Nomad raises him higher, tilting Indigo's hips so his cock points down at his face.  The scag says, "I want you to come in your mouth.  Cum- in your mouth."

He whines when Nomad lets go, a keen sound of betrayal. He grasps for his cock with his good hand, urgent and desperately chasing that edge even as he's manhandled. "Fuck yo- fuck. hey, ah!"

The command- he pulls and tenses in his belly, helps Nomad push him further over. He's curled almost in half now, with his weight on his shoulders and in Nomad's grip. He can't quite, he flicks his tongue out at his cock and just catches the tip of it. Quickly he jacks against his tongue, until he twitches and gasps.

Tongue out and broadened for it, he catches the most of his cum on his tongue but some still spatters on his lips and cheeks.

Nomad is amazed when Indigo's tongue slides out and taps his cock.  His own cock jerks up and fluid slips out.  He watches Indigo's tongue as the man shakes his glans onto it and then cums.  It's thick and opaque, days of liquid shooting into his mouth, and pulsing onto his face.   

"Holy fuck!" Nomad smiles.  "Ah, sweetie, nice."

He settles Indigo's hips back on the floor and rolls them to the side, holding his shoulder down.  He shoves the man's upper leg into his chest.  "That was hot, man."

The scag leans in and bites at Indigo's arse, then sucks at his clenching balls.  He has one in his mouth as he finds the lube.  He pushes the wet stone out, swiping his tongue along the round side, as he begins pushing lube into Indigo's arse.  He rises up and slicks his cock with a fast hand.  "Hold your leg, sweetie?"

Nomad doesn't need him to help, but he wants to see it.

He grins and nods at Nomad's praise, breathing too rapidly now for any coherent speech. As soon as his leg is shoved up, Indigo's grasping at it. Something to steady himself with, even if it's part of his own body. Something to grip, as his balls are played with, as he's lubed up.

"Yeah, angel." He doesn't hold it to himself as tightly when Nomad lets it go, letting himself relax for the rough fingers.

Nomad works Indigo's arse for a few more minutes, smiling at the truckie's blissful face.  He pushes two of his thick fingers in, and the rim is very firm, and he knows that the man hasn't been fucked in a while.  He chuckles.  "Ah, you want this so bad."

"Nobody else looking for you but me.  You're lucky to have a mate like me.  Lucky fella."  The scag slips his hand along the vagabond's cockshaft.  He doesn't touch the bright glans, though there is a glob of cum on it that tempts him.  His fingers rub frenulum, as he  lines his cock up.  Nomad pushes into Indigo with a soft hiss.  The heat strokes along his glans and shaft, and he shakes his head.  "Ah, this is why I look for you, sweetie.  You are a good boy.  Fuck, you're still hard.  You gonna jack for me again later?  With my cum in you?  Yeah, I think you are."

"Ah, shut up."

"Jus'-" Nomad's pushing in slowly, somewhere between letting Indigo take it and making him take it. He’s tight, from time and haste. "Fuh."

"Maybe I will. Maybe I- " Nomad grips one of Indigo's arsecheeks, fingers digging in tightly and pulls Indigo further onto his dick. It serves as a reminder: he’s not supposed to be sassy tonight. But it only quiets his words, not the other sounds he’s making as Nomad rocks him with his thrusts. 

Nomad lays his hand on the vagabond's upper hip.  His balls meet the wet rim of Indigo's hole, and he starts pumping slowly.  His fingers move down the man's cock, and he strokes his taint.  The skin is wet and the hair damp.  As he rubs there, he runs his other hand up Indigo's side.  The bareness of this skin is pleasant but less intimate.  Nomad slips his fingers into the man's armpit and tugs hard at the hair there.  He slides his palm sideways, over Indigo's pec, and onto his neck.  Then the scag's touching his chin, wiping up spatters of thick cum.  He stares at the man's pink mouth.  After a moment, Nomad lifts his hand to his own mouth and licks his fingers.  Then he bends above Indigo to plant his palms on the floor.  He starts fucking him fast now, grunting.

The caress is long, and Indigo squirms at the tug on his armpit hair. It is an unsettling feeling, a little painful. But Nomad's hand moves on, and Indigo watches Nomad clean his fingers with keen eyes.

He twists his hips up to get a better angle for both of them, and his good hand pushes up against Nomad's chest, nails digging in. Little gasps fit in between Nomad's grunting and the sounds of them slapping together.

The scag works the bitterness into his mouth with his tongue.  As he fucks, the heat that jackets his cock is flickering deep into his glans, and the taste in his mouth sharpens the friction.  He growls, and clenches his arse and abs to thrust hard, when Indigo's nails dig at his chest.  The man is shifting under him. 

Suddenly it’s easy to drive deep, so Nomad does.  There's some flinch as he rocks in, and he hits the bend inside his mate.  His cock flexes a lot less than Indigo must.  He'd ask if it were too much, but it doesn't matter because now he's cumming.  He's cumming.  He may have said it.  He's pulsing heat in Indigo, driven into him by the contraction of his sack and his deep muscles and his hips, and even his boots bracing, scraping on the floor.  His palms burn.

"Hey!" It's too deep, it's a strange pain. He cries out and claws at the strong body on top of him. But Nomad's groaning, he's cumming deep inside Indigo.

Nomad flops slightly, resting on the twisted body under him even as Indigo squirms and pushes at him. "Gerroff, ya heavy!"

“Mm." Nomad pushes and slides, off and down, until he's resting on shoulder and hip behind Indigo.  The scag responds in a moment, slow and content.  "So if I'm heavy, get on top next time.  Do some work."

He moves his hand over the smaller man's body and slaps lightly at his cock.  "Still hard.  You can jack for me later.  Or ride me."

He laughs and pulls the warmth in tighter. Then the scag reaches up to shove Indigo's head forward, so he can lay his own down without twisting his neck.

"Mm, nope. you pushed me over."

Indigo submits to his head being pushed with a minimum of muttering, but he does adjust his hair, ostensibly to keep it from pulling. But very incidentally some of it flicks up in Nomad's face.

"Gonna let me cum all over you if I ride you?" He fiddles idly with his cock.

Nomad grunts softly.  "What.  right."

"You're falling asleep on me."

...  
"One shot an' done, huh."


	2. Round 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indigo is demanding. Nomad is an asshole. Everything is normal.

“Lookin’ out for me. Sure you are.” Indigo giggles. “Leaving me here, like  _ this _ !”

The grumbling has no influence on Nomad. It rarely does.

Indigo slowly runs a hand down his body, fingers touching at the marks left on his throat and chest.  _ Good _ . He slides his hand across his belly, fingers spread out, and then lower to lazily play with his cock. He licks his lips, makes a face, and rolls away until he’s sitting and facing where Nomad’s still lying. He jostles him with a foot, and Nomad just rolls over onto his back with a mutter.

Awkwardly, he scoots back to where he can easily reach Nomad’s dick with his good hand. He strokes and fondles, alternating between himself and Nomad until Nomad’s cock firms in his hand. Only then he notices the poorly hidden smirk. He laughs and flicks the tender edge of Nomad’s groin. “You are such an arsehole.”

The lube is an awkward arm’s reach away, but he manages with a strong lean. Indigo slicks Nomad’s cock with firm wet strokes, and grins at his sigh. Then he moves and straddles Nomad’s hips but stays taut and above him. “Hey angel, help me out here!”

Nomad has been looking through his eyelashes; he flicks open his eyes and stares up and down Indigo’s body.  The scag’s hands lock on the slim waist, pressing in and down on his hipbones.  He pulls Indigo lower, watching his thighs firm, the lean muscles broadening as he supports his weight only with them.

The scag has a wide smirk on his face as he reaches under his mate.  Nomad lifts his cock, and nudges his glans against Indigo’s arsehole.  He flexes his hips and pushes, placing both hands back on the man's  waist.  He holds him, and his groin rises and rolls, driving deeper.  The scag is biting his lip.  His chin lifts, and his eyes close, then open, and he pulls his right hand away.  He smacks Indigo hard on his arse, grinning at him.

“Jack it,” Nomad growls, “and fucking move.”

Just the head of Nomad’s cock breaches Indigo, and then his mate is driving up into him. Indigo’s mouth falls open and he gasps and he sinks down until he’s seated all the way on Nomad. He rocks his hips, rather than lifting himself back up again, and even with that slight movement he can feel that cock shifting inside him.

He forgets for a moment, and reaches for his cock with the wrong hand. Despite how quickly he switches to cover it, Nomad still catches it, and laughs. Indigo shrugs, and presses his cock down against Nomad’s belly so that the way he’s rocking rubs it. It works, until Nomad grips Indigo’s hips and pulls him up, and then back down again for emphasis. Indigo moans, low and loud.

He moves, again holding his weight in his thighs, but he can’t move like that for very long and puts his hand down by Nomad’s shoulder so he can fuck better.

The scag keeps his hands wrapped on Indigo’s hips, palms on the bones, and fingers pressed into his arse, on the tense muscle that is rounding and tensing in rhythm. He watches and feels the man’s warm sack drag on his belly, the stones firm, and the loose skin soft.  Indigo’s cock bobs over him; Nomad begins to slide his hand around to touch it, when the truckie bends forward.  The view changes and the scag doesn’t care for that. 

He frowns, turning his hand and slapping up with the back of it.  He hits Indigo’s abs, just above his cock.  The next slap may be lighter, but it may smack the stiff shaft.  Nomad locks eyes with Indigo and smiles to let him know.  

“Get back up,” he says.  He pushes hard on the man’s belly and his hip.  “Get your hands on my thighs. Ride like that.”

The slaps land on his belly, and he meets Nomads smile. "Sure!"

He drops an elbow to Nomad's chest and lets it dig into his pec before placing his good hand beside it and pushing himself up, rocking himself back. For a moment, he's upright, and then his hand finds Nomad's thigh. He pulls his shoulders back and arcs his body. His cock juts out firmly.

Nomad is staring. Indigo flexes under his gaze, smirking. "Like this? Yeah, you like, hey, touch me."

His hand grips and slides in Nomad's rucked up jeans before he gets a solid hold. His other hand is in a much lighter grip.

A grunt and a scowl fade from Nomad’s mouth, as the pain eases from his chest.  He watches Indigo curve his belly and cock forward, his chest falling back, and his small chin tucked. The scag slips his hand along the warm shaft.  His thumb rolls in the slickness on the glans, circling and sweeping and nudging, at the slit and flared edges and under the stiff corona.  Indigo thrusts and rocks, his one hand heavy, trapping Nomad’s left thigh.

That’s good; otherwise the scag would be thrusting, and he wants to watch; he wants to be performed upon.  Though he’s still, he’s sweating along his thighs.  Inside his jeans, that fluid warmth is rolling through the thick hair on his legs.  His urge to shift, to roll and buck upwards, transmits into a quicker motion of his hand on his mate’s cock.  

Indigo’s steady weight, all concentrated in the grip of that one hand, is countered by the grip of his slick arsehole. It’s a stoking tug, this wet, hot drag along Nomad’s cock shaft.  The scag groans softly.  He continues to stroke Indigo’s cock and rub his glans.  He shifts his other hand back, high on the upper curve of one arse cheek.  He slides his fingers into the groove, and then down,  into the hot, damp divide.  He’s found the smooth rim that enfolds his cock. It’s pulled so wide and round by the diameter of his shaft.  

Touching both at once  is exciting and amazing. The slick rim is stretched under Nomad’s fingertips.  He feels his hard shaft: the prominence along the underside, the ripples of veins as Indigo rocks up and forward.  Indigo’s rim is sliding, pushing, shoving up and down, with a suction of heat and wetness.  The slick of lube spreads on Nomad’s shaft, his balls; his hair becomes a mesh of dampness under Indigo.

“Ah, sweetie,”  Nomad whispers, shutting his eyes and sneering against the cycle of coming into cumming.  This could be a lot quicker than he wants; and he can’t take looking at that pretty, lusty face: those parted and pink lips, and the dark staring eyes.

Indigo moans as thick fingers touch around his hole, feeling the stretch of his rim as it pulls and slides. Soft and slick between hard shaft and coarse fingertip. "Yeah, fu'"

He keeps his pace, but moves his damaged hand to play with a nipple. He pinches it, tugging and rolling it between his fingers. His hand strays, fingers stroking the soft place under the edge of his jaw, and then down along his neck, back to his nipple again.

"Hey angel," Indigo's voice is suddenly insistent. "Look at me. Look at me and jack me."

Nomad blinks open his eyes; large and narrow under lowered brows.   He stares, but with a floating gaze, moving like shadows, sliding up and down the smooth, muscled body.  He settles his eyes on the hard, wet cock in his hand. 

“Fuck,” he says thickly, and licks his lips, starting to grunt softly with mouth open.  Indigo’s cock pushes and twitches in his palm.  For a few moments, Nomad rubs harder at both the man’s cock and arsehole, his fingers pressing at Indigo’s wet rim.   Then he moves his hand to tug his own balls.  

As he touches himself, he shakes his head, engaging with the heat that throbs in his glans, deep in Indigo’s body.  He’s willing, wanting, and denying.  He has no intentions in the moment.  There’s no thought in the start of the surge.  A projection of pleasure, fluid and firm, seems to drive him stiffer and further into Indigo.  He feels beyond himself.  He feels he’s drawn out larger and longer somehow, even as the heat concentrates.

“Ah,” he shouts, and slides two fingers under his balls to press at his taint.  He knows that as his head rolls back, as he stares into Indigo’s eyes, he is rounding both his mouth and his own eyes.  He can’t think of words to curse the man.  His hand grips firmer on Indigo’s hard rod, and strokes demandingly.

Indigo can see, can feel how much Nomad wants to cum, and how much he wants Indigo to cum first. But Indigo drives him hard. He looks, and catches that stare.

"Cum for me, yeah, just like that angel, fuck."

He pushes Nomad's big hand off his cock and Nomad's pushing up into Indigo, as deep as he can, as hard as he can, though Indigo still holds his thigh.  Nomad’s rolling is angled, intensely pressing the side of his shaft and glans.  The heat flares and subsumes the feel of Indigo’s body, and Nomad cums.  

Indigo groans, and jacks himself fast and hard. Then he's cumming too. The first pulse catches him by surprise, his eyes have fallen shut as he focused on the pleasure burning in him. Then he's wide eyed and cumming across Nomad's belly and chest.

"Ah, yes, holy shit, yeah!"

Groaning, Nomad watches the shower of semen fall on his chest and belly.  Slick and hot, it taps at his skin and flows in firm, short rivulets.  A flood of motion, but it’s momentary.  Amazing, how it’s suddenly there and still.

Indigo reaches out and drags a finger through one of the spatters on Nomad's belly, smearing it and suddenly laughing. Nomad grins too, relaxing in the soft, settling flares of warmth that infuse his cock.  He licks his lips, and catches the man’s hand, pulling it toward his mouth.

Indigo pushes his wet fingers between Nomad's lips. He's smiling faintly, as if mesmerized, intent on the way the scag's lips part for his fingers and the way his tongue meets them. "Nice."

He pulls his fingers back to pinch lightly at Nomad's lower lip, pulling it and letting it pop back. Then Indigo drags a damp finger across his chin, and lower to his chest. He swipes his finger through another spatter, and then offers his hand again.

Nomad grips Indigo’s wrist, and brings the wet fingers down to rest on his lower lip.  He breathes over them, then sucks them in and rubs his tongue on the bitter skin. He pulls Indigo’s hand back, and grunts, “Good,” as he lets him go.  

With a broad smile,  Nomad slaps the man’s arse, and Indigo rolls his eyes.  The scag’s cock is slipping out now, and the shaft curves uncomfortably in the small space below Indigo.  “That was good; get the hell off me now.” 

“Yeah.”

The scag rolls his head  to look throughout the room; dismissing the burn-pocked table, short fridge, and narrow stove.  He smiles at the bed. The stiff blanket and coarse sheets look decently warm, and a corner of them should work for wiping himself down.  The scag doesn’t like wearing a crust when he wakes up.  Setting his palms and heels into the rough carpet, he heaves himself up.

Indigo lifts himself up and away, grimacing when he pulls free of Nomad's cock. "uh, gross."

He rolls onto his back, glances at his mate, stares at the ceiling. Nomad's moving around; Indigo can't see him but he can guess at what he's doing from the sounds. "Oi, Nomad. Even ratholes like this got water. You can use it."

His joints pop when he stretches, and now he feels the exertion. Slowly, he hauls himself to his feet and ambles toward the bathroom. There, he washes his hands, rinses his mouth out, cleans himself up a bit. Momentarily, he looks up and his reflection aligns perfectly with the spidering crack in the mirror; the center of it in one of his eyes. He blinks and shakes his head. Now it's gone, and he ambles back into the room.

He goes straight to the tangle of blankets that he's developed on the bed in the previous couple of days, and flops down.  Nomad is sitting on the foot of the bed, his boots stacked on the floor.  He turns to stare at Indigo.  The scag’s blue eyes are wide, and his eyebrows shift up, as he says, “Hey.  Hey, where’s my towel?  So, you don’t even bring me a towel!”  

He presses a palm into the bed and lays back, turning on his hip, and then bringing up one bare foot.  Nomad grins as he wedges his heel into Indigo’s hip. He slides the man off the hard mattress, down to the rough carpet that reeks of insecticide.  Rolling onto his belly, the scag grips the edge of the bed.  He pulls forward to look and laugh.

“Huh? No, get it-” Indigo hits the floor with a yelp. “Aw, fuckoff.”

He blinks up at the scag, and then reaches up and very deliberately pulls the blanket that Nomad's lying on until he falls too. Smiling, Nomad catches himself on his hands, and keeps his head and chest up, though his knees come down hard.  They brush Indigo’s bare flank, nudging the firm and smooth warmth, rocking him.  Crawling over the man and rising up, the scag looks back at his mate and laughs.  “You got lucky.  Maybe I should have landed on you.”

He taps his chest, where a red mark was impressed by Indigo’s elbow, and walks toward the bathroom.  “You have any towels that the rats haven’t shredded?’ 

Indigo shrugs at Nomad's back. The towels are worn and ragged, and good enough. It doesn't really matter.

He stands and follows Nomad, brushing against him as he leans to turn the water on in the shower. "Shoulda done this before you got scuzz all over my bed."

The vagabond sighs, and picks at the bandage on his arm. The edge of it is tucked under, the toothed clips that hold it have already fucked off. The end comes free so he winds it into a messy bundle around his hand. The skin underneath is mottled with a wicked bruise, and swelling around his wrist. He grimaces at it, and then resolutely ignores it.

He touches the water; it's as warm as it gets here, so he flicks the droplets at Nomad and steps into the shower. "Hey, c'mon!"

Nomad looks at the dark swelling of Indigo’s forearm.  Naked and smooth, the bruise is tender, and the scag wants it in his hand.  Nomad steps into the stall and close to the smaller man.  He swings one arm in front of Indigo’s belly, palming his hip, and draws him back, behind himself.  While he’s washing his chest, scraping and slipping the cum downwards, Indigo stirs brusquely in the cool air behind him.  It amuses the scag and he soaps himself twice.  

The showerhead is low; he stoops to wet and lather his hair, just the way he bows forward when he kisses Indigo’s neck.  Nomad turns and grabs the man’s waist.  The muscles tense in slick planes, and his hands can only guide, not force.  He pulls at Indigo, and bends to kiss and lick and bite his lips. Indigo momentarily slides away before leaning up into the kiss.  He nips back at his mate.

Indigo reaches out and gently touches Nomad's broad back, fingers following the shifting muscles. Then he rubs himself down in the spray that comes around Nomad. It's not much, but he's showered already this week so he feels he doesn't need much. 

Nomad closes his hand high on Indigo’s swollen forearm.  His fingers slide down, in pulses, over the hot, firm bruise. He plays gently for a moment, smiling broadly at Indigo.

Indigo pulls away when his arm is grabbed; he only submits to his arm being toyed with for a moment, and then scowls at the man. He jerks his arm from between soap slick fingers. "Can't you let a man be injured in peace?"

Nomad licks his bottom lip, and presses his teeth onto the full flesh, though he can’t damp his smile. “If you wanted peace, you wouldn’t have opened your door.” 

Indigo can't help but smile at Nomad's dumb grin. "See if I ever invite you in again."

The scag’s hair drips down into Indigo’s long locks, beaten smooth and flat by the water.  He  turns them both, and then slaps the vagabond forward to the water.  The scag stands to admire the wet, hard, and slender body, before stepping out of the stall. He rifles for the fullest, largest towel, and lets the rest slip to the floor.

The shove has staggered Indigo; he slides under the water. Now he can finish his shower in peace and scrubs himself more thoroughly. The water helps the bruise, he thinks, maybe he'll soak it tomorrow.

Nomad's taken his towel, the nicest one, and has defected to the bed with it. And somehow, he's still making a wet spot. Indigo scoops up another one and scrubs himself dry with it, wrings his hair out with it.

He walks to the bed, and just steps up onto it before smoothly dropping down to sit. "You-" he tosses the bundled towel at Nomad's back "-get that side."

When the towel hits him softly, the scag grunts and rolls to his knees behind Indigo.  He pushes his broad chest into Indigo’s back, bowing him forward.  Nomad’s shoulders are wider, and it’s simple for his long, thick arms to wrap and contract over Indigo, forcing him to fall onto his chest.  The scag leans in, weighing down, laughing deeply.  

He hooks a hard thigh over Indigo’s right leg, and pulls it back.  Then he rolls them to that side, and repeats the move for the left leg.  When Nomad has Indigo on his belly, he lays as heavily as he can, groaning softly at the feel of the man under him: the hard shoulders and firm back, the soft arse and tense legs.  All of Indigo is warm or hot, and still damp from the shower.  

“Nice.” Nomad says.

Somewhat relaxed from the warm shower, Indigo's not fighting back. He tenses as the larger man lays heavy on him.

"Fuck off."

The suggestion is more of a wheeze than an effective command. Nomad laughs at him, and makes sure his limbs are atop Indigo's.

Indigo slowly, deliberately relaxes himself and lets the weight on him press him down. "You better not be planning on sleepin like this."

He lethargically flops one of Nomad's arms off his.

“Shut up.” The scag instructs him.  He shifts until he’s pressed his cock into the hot divide of Indigo’s arse.  His shoulders still project above the vagabond’s back, forcing the man’s neck and head down.  He brings one hand up and strokes roughly at the black hair, then grips and tugs so Indigo’s head rolls up.  Nomad kisses his jaw and neck before shoving him back down.  

“It’s good this way.” He tells him. “No worries about you getting into my things or playing tricks...or sneaking off, before I’m done with you.  The way you’ve done before.”

He can’t slap Indigo’s arse at the moment, but he cracks a hand down onto the side of his thigh.  The firm feel of that is so nice that Nomad does it once more, then groans, and squeezes the muscle in his hand.  

“Fuck yeah.  See?  Nice, for me.”  He laughs and flexes his body heavily into the warmth of Indigo.

Indigo grunts and squirms at the way Nomad handles him. But he doesn't struggle either, Nomad is warm  _ hot _ and it's perhaps the only thing in this room that he actually likes. He sighs.

"'m not goin anywhere." He takes a shallow breath and pushes his bruised hand into the scag's line of sight. "I don't wanna be here."

"Ain't got a choice."

He twists, nearly futily. "I'll be here. Now get off me."

He closes his fist; the bruises spread across the back of his hand and onto the knuckle of his thumb.

Nomad shakes his head, his thick hair susurrating on the bed.  He lays his cheek down and stares into Indigo’s dark eyes, with a firm smile. 

“Later.”  He growls.  “Later when I want to.  If I do.”

He’s drawing his fingers up the man’s thigh, brushing through the soft, smooth hairs.  He grips the firm muscle again, pushing his hand down along it.  It’s nice having Indigo pressed down, breathless and trying to bargain.  It’s going to make for good dreams.

Indigo pulls his head back as best he can. He stares at Nomad.

"Right. Okay. You... do that."

Indigo shuts his eyes, and slows his breathing. Nomad trapping him in a place he's already trapped isn't much more of a hardship. He only gets three or four cycles of talking shit to himself inside his head before Nomad's asleep on top of him. Only then does he fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> d__T  
> How many times has Nomad passed out beside nightrider and woken to nightrider's hand on his cock?  
> How long until he stopped freaking out about it?
> 
> Najanaja  
> Freaking out: for about 1 minute the first time before he hit on the excellent strategy of saying nothing and making no eye contact  
> Also about as many times as the Nightrider wakes up to find Nomad's hand on his cock :D


	3. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indigo does the one thing he's told not to do.

Indigo’s back is cold; it wakes him, and he discovers that Nomad has slid and angled himself so that his head rests in the small of Indigo's back and his arm and shoulder are thrown across Indigo's legs. Slowly Indigo rolls out from under him, lips shut tight around the ache coming from his arm and back now.

He sits a moment and watches Nomad sleep in the faint light from the window. The entire room crawls in on him, and he scratches at his arms and watches Nomad a bit longer. The man is breathing evenly, and drooling just slightly on his arm. Asleep is a good look on him.

Indigo whispers. "Don't you dare wake up."

And then he slips off the bed. He grabs his shorts from the rumple of jeans on the floor and pulls them on before grabbing his boots and heading outside. The dingy light falls into the room, and then Indigo locks it out. The hall is open; posts support the overhang and the dingy light hung at the center of the building, and the world beyond that is dark. Indigo stamps his boots on and walks to the end where his ute is parked.

He steps out beyond the edge of the light and makes a lap around his ute. She's fine. It doesn't reassure him, not really, and he checks the padlocks on the hood. They're fine too.

Indigo steps further out into the dark and watches his faint shadow from the faint light bleed into the depth of the night. It's no good at all.

He doesn't want to turn back to the room, but he can't survive the night out here. Not like this. He flexes his damaged hand, and it burns. He walks back to the room, locks himself in again. No, not like this.

He crawls in beside Nomad and watches his vision swim until he passes out again.


End file.
